


We make something, you and I

by SlytherinTom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Universe, Dean is emotionally constipated, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, Romance, Sam Winchester is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinTom/pseuds/SlytherinTom
Summary: Castiel says: "I love you."Dean doesn't quite know how to deal with it.So he doesn't.





	We make something, you and I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mishalocked24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishalocked24/gifts).



> So, here we are again. This is a sort of a prompt, I was wondering with my Soulmate about Dean's reaction to Castiel's "I love you". This came out. It doesn't happen in a clear point in time in the plot of the show, about after the mixtape episode I guess.  
> Enjoy and let me know!

 

“I love you.”

At the words, Dean felt something akin to a bullet shot through his stomach. Heavy. Wrenching. It left him without breath, and couldn’t for the life of him draw another. Castiel’s eyes were clear and open, but guarded all the same, he turned back to the TV screen. Seemingly unaware of Dean’s internal struggle, unaware of his own words.

Absorbed by the moving picture, his lips parted and Dean’s eyes followed them raptly. Finally able to breathe, he let out air with a whoosh and stared ahead. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. And. Got up.

“Dean?”

He turned but couldn’t meet his eyes, “I’m just… I’m gonna…”

“Is something wrong?”

 _Yes._ “No.”

Castiel brows creased further. “Did I- Dean, I thought you knew.” 

Dean brought a hand to his mouth, and rubbed his nose as he snorted. “What?”

“Dean,” Castiel closed his eyes as he sighed.

“You know what, Cas? You don’t get to-” he fumbled a bit with his hands, “you just don’t. This. This is _something_.”

Dean started to pace the length of the room, his thoughts a jumbled mess he couldn’t even start to figure out. Did Castiel even know what it meant? Did Dean know what he meant? The meaning. Dean was stuck on it.

The chair scraped. Castiel stood up. Dean stared at a loose button on his trench coat as the world crumbled. He was overwhelmed with wrongness. 

Castiel repeated: “Dean.”

“I’m fucking here, Cas. We’re alone. You don’t need to call my name every damn time.”

"I’m sorry.”

 _What for._ What was he referring to? He wanted to punch him. But not. Dean was driving himself mad, he brushed a hand on his nape and sighed. He pressed his lips together hard, otherwise he would surely say something he would regret later. Or scream. Something ugly was crawling up his throat. 

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

Dean inhaled sharply. “You didn’t.”

Castiel looked patronizing as he moved around the table to reach him. Slowly, as if he would bolt at any sudden noise. He looked down at his feet, the right one pointed towards the exit and his legs tense. He frowned and shuffled to lean against the desk. Dean looked up when Castiel shoulder grazed his own before leaning back.

“I truly thought you were aware of my feelings for you.”

Though it cleared at least some of the questions, Dean’s mind still felt addled. In a way, he thought, he was aware. Castiel’s presence was surety, he felt like he belonged with Dean as if it had been that way forever. He didn’t though, did he? He kept on leaving, reminding Dean how inherently different they were. No matter how many times Dean assured him that he was part of his family now, that the room next to Dean’s was his alone and not just one of the numerous guest’s rooms.

He felt stupid.

Castiel didn’t even sleep in it. He didn’t need to.

A short laugh escaped him. “I’m not. Upset, I mean.”

Cas tilted his head, and Dean followed the movement with his eyes before they fell again on the loose button. It really shouldn’t be loose.

“You’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you moving backwards?”

Dean brought his retreating foot forward again. “I’m not.”

Castiel was in his space. And Dean could not look away _from that fucking button-_

“What are you doing.” It didn’t sound like a question. Dean throat felt too parched to bother with that.

“I thought it was obvious.” Like this he could feel Castiel breath on his face.

“Why now."

“You said it was… _something_.”

 _I didn’t mean this_ , his mind supplied but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to correct the other. Or to look him in the eyes.

He parted his lips to say most likely something even more incoherent, but Castiel moved first and kissed his lips. His lower lip actually, as Dean’s mouth was slightly open, with just a barely there peck. And leaned back.

Dean was breathless again.

Castiel’s lips were as they always had been, slightly uneven, full, firm. They didn’t seem different now, yet they touched Dean’s. Who still felt the wet patch on his own lip. Without thinking, his tongue swiped where it felt different.

Castiel’s eye followed it longingly.

The bullet in his stomach was now a twisting knife. The ugliness finally broke free of his throat.

“I need air.”

Castiel’s face crumpled.

He finally bolted.

 

xxxx

 

Unload. Check the barrel.

“Where is Cas?”

Disassemble.

Soak the patch with solvent. Push the rod through the bore until it exits the other end.

Never pull it back.

“Dean.”

_You don’t ever pull it back through, son. You’ll just dirty it back again with the gunk you just cleaned._

A hand came over his half-cleaned gun to pull it down. Sam lowered himself until he could look him in the eyes.

“What the hell, Sam.”

“You’re not listening. Where is Cas?”

“The fuck do I know.” Dean got up, wiping lubricants and solvent off his hands with a rag. He went over to the fridge. “Beer?”

Sam dismissed him with a gesture. Dean shrugged and grabbed one. “It’s been days and he didn’t say anything."

“You know how he is.” Dean uncorked the bottle with his bare hand, the slight fizzle was already soothing his nerves. He wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.

“Dean.”

He tilted his head back and gulped down a generous amount. It was bitter as usual, but the after-taste was sweet. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve checking the beer brand. “This is good.”

“What did you do.”

He stalled time keeping a burp inside and patting his ribcage, in the hope of disgusting his brother away.

“I’m calling him.”

No such luck.

He swallowed painfully down a loud _don’t_ and managed to shrug again instead. He felt proud of himself. Sam brought the phone to his ear while he waited the rings, but his glare remained fixed on him the entire time.

At last, his brother sighed and looked away. “Hey Cas, it’s Sam. Just let me know you’re okay when you hear this.”

 

Cas called back two days later, he was okay and just needed some time to himself. He would be back soon. That he told Sam.

Dean didn’t really know what to do about it when he couldn’t even _think_ about it. Most of the time he even managed it. He didn’t when he lingered outside Castiel’s room and wondered. He stroked a hand over the door handle, but didn’t push. Would Cas even mind, if Dean were to go inside? He gripped it a little too hard. Then released it.

A month passed and Cas just checked in with Sam over cases and his whereabouts through his phone. He promised everytime he was coming back soon.

But he didn’t.

All the while Sam was a slow torture mostly made of: “Alright, Dean tell me what’s going on,” or “This is ridiculous, you’re both behaving like children!”

Dean was only one step away from attacking his brother, no matter how many times he asked to be left alone, Sam wouldn’t. It was chipping away at him, every day he felt himself wearing even more thin. The entire situation was going to blow up soon.

One afternoon Sam said: “Cas asked me about you this morning.”

Dean was fiddling with a pen and didn’t look away from it. His fingertips were tingling. “What did he say?”

“He asked how you were.” 

“Typical.” He could almost feel the way his brother glare was driving a hole through his skull. He took a deep breath.

“I told him I didn’t know. He sounded… concerned.” 

The pen slipped, clinked on the table and rolled away. He stopped it, slapping a hand on it and looked at his brother. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true, Dean! You won’t talk to me, you just hover around like some ghost.”

“I don’t hover!”

“Yes, you do!” Sam got suddenly up and stormed over to Dean. “All you do is looking like a creep in front of Cas’s room-”

“Wha- I don’t-”

“and getting drunk at odd hours! More than usual, at least. I know you, Dean, do you seriously-”

“He said he loved me,” that managed to finally shut up his brother. He thought maybe he should have done that sooner to save himself the pain this past month. Sam looked stunned, his mouth hanging open and his eyebrows nearly disappearing in his hairline. Might as well, thought Dean. “And I bailed. There, you happy? Now you know why it’s none of your business.”

“Dean…”

“Don’t give me that, Sammy.” He said with a grimace and got up.

“Wait.” Sam rested a hand on his brother shoulder, halting his escape. His eyes were downcast, but pensive. Dean crossed his arm on his chest. A sigh.

“I think… I mean, don’t get angry, but I was aware of his feelings.”

“What.”

Sam fumbled a bit under his glare. “Well, I guess from an outside eye, it’s easier to glean some undeniable proofs.”

Dean backed away, a sneer making his way on his face. “You’re serious?”

When Sam looked at him with sadness, he snorted. He braced himself on a chair staring ahead. He couldn’t deal with this right now, Sam was making his hackles rise real fast and he didn’t even know why. He needed a case, but with his brother playing the helicopter parent he didn’t stand a chance at getting away with it. Dean lifted his head to look at Sam, who fixed him with a kind of firm but also soft expression. He was so like Mary in that moment, he felt the need to swallow. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. 

“I’m going out, I’ll see you later.”

“No. Dean! Listen to me…”

He jabbed a finger on Sam’s chest. “No, you listen, Sam.” He waited until his brother was looking him in the eyes. “This. None of this is any of your business, got it? This is not something we can hug over and be happy together. So, you listen to me and stay out of it.”

Sam sighed as he brushed past him, making a point of shoving him with his shoulder. He took his leather jacket and the Impala keys. As his hand closed around the cold jiggling metal he already felt better.

xxxx

 

This time when he was in front of the door he wasted a lot of time simply staring at it. His mind was carefully blank as it had been this past month or so, he didn’t even know what to tackle first on something like this. His tiny gold reflection stared right back at him from the door handle. He covered it with his hand and twisted. The door opened with a long creak as Dean palmed the wall and flicked on the lights. He held his breath.

As a contrast to the neatly made bed the rest of the room was a mess. It was littered with little trinkets, some even strewn on the floor. A dumpster, truly. Dean went over to a cabinet and picked up the first thing which had caught his eye. Toothpaste, clearly used, in a white and teal case. No toothbrush in sight, though, even if there was no reason for either of those objects to be there. Putting that down he kneeled on the floor by a dark red hoodie, _his_ dark red hoodie, he remembered when he had lent it to Cas. Standing up he folded it over his hand and looked around himself once more. He felt his skin crawl. As if uncomfortable in his own body.

This was wrong. Castiel’s room should have been pristine white, cleanliness oozing from every pore on the wall. Everything neatly folded and in its place. Not a place littered with rubbish, with furniture half open where clothes aren’t even all the way inside. An ugly light blue vest was closed between two drawers, the name ‘Steve’ stood out on a dark red plaque.

When his eye fell on an old cassette recorder, his feet were already bringing him there of their own volition. With the hoodie still over his arm, he fingered the buttons until he found the ‘eject’. He didn’t press. It felt like peeking inside a private diary, or something. This whole ordeal felt like overstepping a limit. He had expected an empty room, nothing revealing about the person whom inhabited it. This felt like peering at Cas’s soul.

He pressed the button. The holder was empty.

_It’s a gift, you keep those._

Did Cas take it with him? Did he throw it away? If that were the case, he couldn’t help but feel slightly outraged seeing the utter non-sense he kept around. Something told him it was not, though. Knowing him, he would have taken Dean’s words to heart, keeping the mixtape on his person all the time, in fear of breaking some kind of human etiquette. The thought made him snort.

He closed the recorder with a soft click.

As he was approaching the door to get out, he brushed a hand over the television propped in front of the bed, dirtying his hand with soot. He frowned down at it, as a knot formed down in his throat and his ribcage became suddenly constricting.

He quickly got out.

 

That night he dreamed of Cas, he had his red hoodie and was human. He was relaxed, talking to him, though Dean immediately forgot what was being said. The other suddenly broke into a laugh, unbidden, open-mouthed, with tears at the corner of his eyes. Dean was mesmerized, he had never seen such look on Castiel’s face.

Dean’s mouth said: “Who are you?”

 _I love you._ As though it was obvious.

In a way, it was.

His lower lip felt wet.

When Dean woke up, he did so peacefully, basking for a bit in the warmth of his bed. His chest felt heavy again, and it hit him hard. He wanted Cas back.

 

His wish was granted a week later. As he entered the bunker he heard his brother talking animatedly to someone and immediately knew who that was. Then he heard Castiel’s grave tone and stopped in his tracks. What if he had noticed that someone had been in his room? Where had he left the red hoodie? He couldn’t remember, the room was such a mess. He finished the stairs in a hurry, not quite knowing what to do but fretting for something.

“Hello, Dean.”

His head whipped around and found Cas’s eyes. They were guarded as usual, but there was none of the anger he now realized he was expecting.

“Hey, Cas.” His voice was lighter than he had intended. His shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry about my silence over the past days, but I thought it best to give you some time to yourself…” He was cutting himself off, Dean was sure, and lowered his eyes. He couldn’t breathe right once again.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Uhm, right…”

Lots of questions kept nagging at him, but everytime one reached his mouth he didn’t have the air to voice them. Castiel filled his vision and he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t fit the image of the man in front of him with the finished toothpaste in his room. His mind felt broken.

They were both suffering the awkwardness and it showed.

“I guess… okay.” Castiel smiled apologetic at him before turning and going away.

Dean felt a punch to the gut, but instead of an air whoosh came out: “Wait, Cas.”

He turned back towards him with such hopeful eyes, Dean felt guilty he didn’t really have anything to say. He fumbled. “We-we’re okay. I mean, it’s okay. Between us.”

Castiel’s wide eyes didn’t give anything away. “Oh, of course. Thank you, Dean”

With a nod, he turned again and went away.

Dean couldn’t move. He felt as if he had just lost a limb.

 

xxxx

 

Dean watched Sam trying to comfort the latest poor soul in need of their line of work behind the Impala’s windshield. He could hear his muffled voice, but couldn't discern what was being said. Didn't care really, he was so tired he didn't even feel like turning his car radio on. 

As his brother was saying his last goodbyes he started the car.

“Finally.” He muttered.

Once on the road the silence was grating on his nerves. He couldn't believe he had to sit through this with his brother too, like there wasn't enough awkwardness at home. With a sniff, he reached for his radio, music suddenly having great appeal.

“Wait, Dean.”

He rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel hard.

“I know you don't want to talk about it, -”

“Understatement.”

“-but we have to. I tried to be patient but the situation is not gonna change on its own. Sincerely, I'm fed up of watching you and Cas tiptoe around each other.”

“So, what? You want me to… talk about my _feelings_?” Dean said with a snort.

Sam frowned. “No. I wanna talk about Cas’s.”

He shifted a bit his hands on the wheel. Sam went on.

“He is miserable, half of the time I don’t even know if he’s outside or just barred in his room. I mean, come on, you won’t even look at him.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything to me! You are right, this is between the two of you. But Christ, Dean, talk to him at least.”

Dean leaned back on his seat, under the glare of his brother. Tapped twice his thumb. “I already tried.”

“What?”

“I said I tried, alright? He just doesn’t…” Sam waited patiently. “It’s not even him. Something. Has changed, something won’t just make it easy when I talk to him, when we’re in the same room, when he looks at me…”

Dean had a faraway look. Seemingly lost between the sky and the stretch of road. Sam sighed and palmed tiredly his own face. Visibly struggling to say something, but not quite knowing what.

The silence stretched on all the way back to the bunker.

“Beer?” Proposed Sam, strangely small in his shoulders and hands hidden in his pockets.

Dean lifted an eyebrow, not quite believing him. His brother just made to show the way inside with a slight grin. He smiled and punched him on the shoulder as he passed, grateful. At ease.

 

xxxx

 

Cas was sitting in front of him with a beer in his hand, they were in that pub where they had gone after they had met during a case, back when he had been human. Cas was in that suit again, but there was no Sam this time. His eyes were a lighter shade than usual, flat somehow, and he was fingering the damp label on the bottle. It was slowly coming away. 

“Something wrong, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes snapped up. Meeting Castiel’s eyes felt like something nostalgic. “What do you mean?”

“Is it because I’m a man?”

Dean frowned confused, for the first time he noticed Castiel’s shirt which was halfway undone and showed a shadowed portion of his chest. Cas ripped off the beer’s sticker.

“Is it because I’m not human?”

Cas got up from his boot and slowly approached him. Dean was petrified, felt cold, a sinking feeling in his gut robbed him of words. Castiel covered the last step that divided them and stopped between his legs. He took his hand and guided it inside his shirt. Dean felt his skin searing hot against his cold one but couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes. He got closer still. He whispered: “What would John say if his boy got fucked by something he would kill on sight? I’m made of the same matter as demons.”

Dean choked on air.

Castiel dag his nails in his hand. “But he died because of you, didn’t he?”

Blood _dripping, dripping, dripping._ From his mouth. Down his neck. Down his arms.

Castiel’s heart pulsated in his hand.

Dean woke up with a shout and bolted upright. He was so hot, he was damp with sweat. Angrily he shoved his covers out of the way and moved to sit on the side of the bed. The cold pavement tiles were a blessing. He scrubbed his face with a long sigh. His knees were trembling.

Unsteady, he got up and went in the kitchen. He turned on the light under the elements, which had enough of a soft glow as to not to disturb his still soggy eyes. He opened the tap and let the water run a bit before taking a sip.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean smacked in surprise his head hard underneath the cupboard and cursed. He brought his hands up to cradle his head, eyes closed thight.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” Dean thought he felt Castiel’s hands skim over his own, but couldn’t really say as his head throbbed.

“Don’t worry.” He said through gritted teeth. He heard the other rummage through the kitchen and he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Here.” Cas handed him an ice pack with impossibly concerned eyes. Dean snorted but took it from him.

“Thanks.” He said as he let the coldness sip through his hair, numbing what was already becoming a twinge.

“So…” Castiel looked immediately attentive. He was wearing his usual white shirt bar tie and trenchcoat, his first button was undone. Dean shivered uneasily. “… what… are you doing here?”

No matter how carefully he worded it, Castiel still looked put out.

“Well, I thought… I live here.” It sounded like a question.

“I meant here in the kitchen, dumbass.”

“Oh.” Cas’s relief hurt. “Nothing. I guess, I couldn’t sleep.”

Dean blinked. Twice. “You… sleep.”

“Yes, since my grace couldn’t be restored completely, I need a few hours a night of rest to function.”

He let that settle inside himself a bit before speaking. A mess of a room came to his mind.

He vaguely pointed at his attire. “You sleep in that?”

Cas picked at his stiff slacks and shrugged. Dean put the ice pack down and sighed, he wondered how one could be on edge around a dork like this and laughed quietly, under his breath. Cas slightly tilted his head sideways. Dean beckoned him. “Come with me, I’ll find you something.”

“There’s no need, Dean.”

He waved him off, already making way for his room. Once inside, he went straight for his drawers and searched for something comfortable and clean for Cas. He could feel him hovering behind him. He cleared his throat to break the slight tension in his own shoulders.

“Here put this on, and take off your pants.” He pulled out a simple grey T-shirt and chucked it in Cas’s face. He could feel the other’s eyes roll even while he was turned.

“These should be good.” He turned around to show his findings, only to stop in his tracks. Castiel’s shirt was scrunched on the floor while he was stretching up his arms to fit Dean’s shirt on. Dean’s fingers tightened on the old sweatpants he was holding as the other slowly covered the expanse of his back. He watched intently the shift of his muscles, something heavy settling again under his stomach. He felt conscious of every breath he was taking, as if they were for someone else lungs. Uncomfortable. _What would John say-_

A hand closed around his own. Castiel’s eyes were a deep ocean blue, they were warm as they gazed at Dean with concern. He felt stupid. Dumb.

“Dean?”

He swallowed the urge to scream.

He cleared his throat again and left the pants in Cas’s hands. “This okay?”

“Certainly.” The frown still wasn’t leaving his face.

“Dean.”

His voice felt rough. “Yeah?”

Castiel didn’t seem aware of what he wanted to say, fumbling a bit, then seemingly steeled himself. Without leaving Dean’s gaze he undid his pants and dropped them. Dean swallowed again, following the long thick lines of Cas’s legs. As the other stepped out of his pooled slacks, he couldn’t help but obsess over the fact that he was only wearing Dean’s shirt now.

Looking back up, he found Castiel’s eyes had never left his. He felt warm.

Castiel put on the sweatpants Dean had found him and he felt like he could breathe easily again. He tensed again as Cas came near.

When he felt Castiel’s breath on his lips, instinctively he sucked it in. “Thank you.”

His eyes shifted slightly downwards. “Goodnight, Dean.”

His door opened and closed, but he couldn’t move.

 

xxxx

 

In hindsight, Dean could admit he had been rather blind. Castiel was part of his family, though he couldn’t call him a brother. Still, it just wasn’t enough anymore when it was just him and Sam. There had been a time that all he had wanted in his life were his little brother, his car and the road running underneath them. Now something ached deep inside him when Cas wasn’t there to share it. It was painful to admit.

Mostly, it was painful when the truth that had escaped him this past few weeks, or really this past years, had been glaring at him right in front of his eyes. He didn’t feel disappointed, the time for different plans had come and gone already. He felt strange. What did he even want? Castiel loved him, that much was clear. But did he? He surely felt strongly for him, God knew how much, but was it what Cas expected? Or wanted? Could he give himself to him?

Staying in the same room as him, robbed him of coherent thought. Castiel was reading a great tome across from him, his eyebrows creased in concentration and eyes downcast. His thumb was gently skimming the sheet of ancient paper, maybe inadvertently. Dean wanted to stop his motions, tell him off because he couldn’t think like this.

His hand closed around Cas’s and effectively stopped it. Castiel looked at their joined hands then up at him with wide eyes. His ears were ringing.

He opened his mouth to say what he had planned, but couldn’t remember what it was.

He had to have a strange look in his eyes, because Cas smiled tentatively and turned upward his hand to intertwine his fingers around his. Dean looked at them. It was warm and soft, but also a bit rough, where their skin was calloused. He hadn’t realized Cas had that kind of hands, with thick fingers and broad palms. His nails were short.

He didn’t want to let go.

“Dean?”

He looked back up at Castiel, his eyes were open, like that blasted afternoon in which he had thought he had ruined them. Dean didn’t want to lose this ever again.

“I want to try. Us. I mean, I want us to try.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He retracted his hand, suddenly feeling naked. “I thought about it and… you’re Cas.”

He laughed softly. “I guess I am.”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s something more, it’s something,”

He took a deep breath. “When you’re not here, with me… it shouldn’t feel like. This.”

“I get it, Dean. Believe me.”

Dean smiled. He did.

 

xxxx

 

It was another dream. This time he was aware of it. They were in the pub again, Cas had his trenchcoat and no drink in hand. There was music.

“Is something wrong, Dean?”

Their knees were touching.

“No.”

 

xxxx

 

Castiel couldn’t for the life of him get what was Dean’s hype for this Star Wars film about. The plot was difficult to follow, weird puppets kept showing up as characters and there were swords made of _light_ , of all things. “It can’t possibly sever anything, even less a body.”

“It’s _laser_ , Cas. It can melt things.”

“Maybe through the laser’s heat is possible, but I know for sure you wouldn’t be able to see it. Light needs a mean to travel, and let’s not talk about-”

“Just shut up, you nerd.”

The soft TV’s glow traced softly Dean face, his eyes were lit entirely taken by the movie. Cas thought he could easily stand it in favor of this moment. His arm was carefully placed on the couch back rest behind Dean, but he still didn’t dare to take it further.

“Look! That’s princess Leia! She is Luke’s sister, fucking badass.” Said Dean pointing at the screen, where a beautiful young woman had appeared. With the movement his chest had leaned even more toward Cas, who chose that moment to bring his arm firmly around Dean’s shoulders.

The silence was loud.

Then his arm was shaking with Dean’s laughter, who was covering his eyes with one hand. Cas frowned. “What?”

Dean laughed more. “I can’t believe you did _the move_ on me. This is like teenage material.”

“What move?”

He shook his head at him, still shaking with silent laughter, and finally looked up at him. Dean’s eyes were shiny with laugh, the corners still crinkled because his mouth was stretched in a toothy smile. Castiel breathed through the ache at his ribcage and joyed at the feeling, pain was human. Dean made him human.

With that thought he kissed Dean’s smile. He couldn’t help the small thrill of fear of rejection sting at the base of his neck.

A hand cupped his cheek and Dean kissed him back. His own body lighted up and he thought maybe this was how it felt like to have a fever. He kissed Dean’s upper lip and then the lower, trying really hard to let his instinct guide him. Dean’s tongue licked his lips and he parted them with a sigh to do it too.

Dean pushed him away gently, but panic gripped him tight all the same. He used the hand on his cheek to brush back his hair and keep him close. Castiel relaxed and bumped softly Dean’s nose with his.

“This is _more_ than something.”

He read the truth in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, it is.”

 

 

_fin_


End file.
